Stormy Weather
by blue artemis
Summary: Hermione is caught in a magical storm. Lucky for her, she's pleased with where she ends up.


Hermione looked outside the window of her flat. The storm was savage, the snow and wind making it almost impossible to see anything.

She wondered what Ron and Lavender and Harry and Luna and Ginny and Neville were doing, then decided she knew exactly what they were doing during the storm and couldn't decide whether she hated them for it or not.

"I can't hate them for being with people they love, can I, Crooks?" Hermione asked the orange ball of fur sitting on her recently vacated spot on the couch.

"_Mrrp_." The cat made a sound and curled back up to sleep.

She and Ron had made a valiant effort to have a relationship, but wild sex and loud fighting was not going to keep anything going for a long time. They had parted amicably, for the most part. However, since then Ron had developed Molly's unfortunate tendency of wanting to pair Hermione up with one of his single brothers. She refused to date Percy, she couldn't take George seriously, and Charlie had never been around enough. She wasn't about to go to Romania.

"That really is a pity, though, Crooks." She spoke to the cat as though he could read her thoughts. "The one time Charlie was around when we were both single, you could almost see the magical sparks fly. But we were never alone enough for anything to happen." She casually picked Crookshanks up and moved him out of her seat.

"_Mrsst_." Crooks hissed his displeasure at being moved.

Hermione sat down, pulled her book off the end table, and started reading.

Charlie looked out the window of his tent on the dragon reserve in Romania. With the weather as bad as it was, he wished he was anywhere but there.

He had seen the restlessness of the dragons and knew that the storm was holding more than just snow and wind. "There hasn't been a storm of this magnitude in ages. The last time there was this much magic in a storm, there were hundreds of Muggle-borns conceived." Charlie was talking to the reserve's owl. It liked staying in his tent at night.

The owl turned its head sideways and hooted at him.

"Did you know that combined with Yule, this really could change the face of wizarding society as we know it?" Charlie stared at the owl. "Or nothing at all could happen. One or the other."

The owl hooted again.

Charlie watched the snow whirling around outside his window and considered which witch he'd like to while away the bad weather with. There was no one on the reserve who tickled his fancy. In fact, there'd been no woman in a long time who'd truly tempted him. Suddenly he wondered how Hermione Granger was doing. The dynamics between himself and her had changed in interesting ways since her break-up with his little brother.

"Too bad I never had the chance to spend more time with her. I wonder if she noticed the sparks."

The owl turned its head almost upside down in response.

"Too right, she notices everything. Well, my family won't give me much time to look into that, no matter how much matchmaking they seem to want to do." Charlie laughed at the look the owl gave him. "Oh, all right, featherface. I get it. Persistence is key."

The storm was truly a once in a century type of storm. Magic was swirling along with the snow, and the blessings and tidings of the season. Charlie and Hermione had looked out at the storm at the same time and thought about each other. Even Muggle children know from their fairy tales how powerful wish magic can be, and coupled with a storm like that, well, it is even more so.

A swirl of sparkling snowflakes pulled Hermione's attention from her book. Watching the snow made her feel dizzy – like a Portkey, just not as strong.

Startled, she shrieked when she landed on someone's lap.

Charlie had still been musing about the frizzy-haired girl who had captured his attention, when suddenly someone fell into his arms out of thin air. He shot up, dumping Hermione on the floor.

She stayed there for a fraction of a second, propped up on her elbows, staring stupidly up at Charlie, before she jumped to her feet and pulled her wand all in one fluid motion.

"Whoa, whoa, babe, I didn't mean to dump you on the floor! How did you get here, anyway?" Charlie had his hands out, warding her off.

After scrutinising him intently – probably checking for signs of his dabbling with the Dark Arts – and a long look out the window at the ever worsening magical storm howling around the reserve, she lowered her wand. "Did you forget you're a wizard, Charlie? I don't think your hands would stop anything I could throw at you!"

He looked down at his hands. "Guess these wouldn't do much good, would they?"

Hermione looked Charlie up and down and grinned. "I'm sure they can do wonders, just not against a wand."

Charlie stifled a laugh and ended up sounding like a hoarse seal. "I don't think you've ever flirted so blatantly around any of my brothers, because I would have heard about it."

"I seem to haven been whisked to Romania only to be stuck in a scary, nasty magical storm. Might as well make the best of it, right?" She looked up at Charlie so earnestly that he just wanted to cuddle and protect her … from this and any other storms. Then he saw the gleam in her eye.

"Oooh, you iare/i shameless, aren't you? No protests of wanting to go home?" Charlie was intrigued. This wasn't the Hermione he was used to, quiet, reticent and with her nose buried in a book for the most part. "You are Hermione, though, aren't you? Tell me something only Hermione would know."

"You have a scar high up on your left thigh from a splinter that broke off your broom when you were fourteen, racing Bill at the Burrow. He repaired the broom and healed you well enough so your mum didn't notice, but he didn't know how to keep it from scarring," Hermione recited the story she had been told a couple of summers ago exactly the way she'd heard it. Then she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, you are Hermione. But really, no protests?" He wanted to make sure she didn't want to leave before he acted.

"You sound like you want me to go, Charlie. Do you?" Hermione placed her fists on her hips. It would just be her luck for him to not want her there after all.

"What? Hell, no! Or that magical storm out there would never have brought you to me. Just five minutes ago I was wishing we'd get some time to get to know each other, and here you are!"

Charlie's pleading sounded quite a bit like Ron's, but Hermione wasn't going to hold that against him. Then she processed what he said. "What do you know about that storm?"

"Uh… Every three hundred years or so, the energy of a solstice gets sucked into a magical storm, and voilà, a life-changing sort of thing. Last time there were almost five hundred new Muggle-borns ready to enter Hogwarts eleven years later," replied Charlie in the same tone he used when training new dragon handlers.

Hermione smiled, because she recognized a lecture when she heard one.

"By the way, babe, what were you doing when _you_ ended up in my lap?" Charlie added a little humming noise to his question.

Hermione huffed and spun away, but not before he could see her blushing.

Charlie reached out, cupped his hands around her shoulders and turned her around. "C'mon, tell me!"

Hermione huffed again. "Fine, just, fine, all right! I was looking out the window into the storm wishing I had more time to get to know iyou/i."

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "Wish magic! Brilliant!"

Hermione pursed her lips and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Why is that so brilliant? Tell me!"

"The magic in the storm reacts to true wishes. It brought you here to me because it's what we both wanted. If you had been wishing for Bill, it wouldn't have happened. That's why it's brilliant." Charlie's voice had an oddly triumphant tone.

"Bill? Why would I be wishing for Bill?" Hermione was perplexed.

"Uh, well, uh..." Charlie blushed. The resulting skin tone clashed horribly with his hair.

"C'mon, Charlie. You can tell me. I won't hurt you... much." Hermione pulled her wand and pointed it at the man in front of her.

"Babe, can't you point that higher, somewhere around here?" Charlie gestured to his chest.

Hermione shook her head. "Answer me, and I might move the wand."

He barely resisted putting his hands over his crotch, remembering her earlier words. There wasn't much he could do with his hands to protect himself against her wand.

Charlie took a big breath. "Bloody hell, woman." The wand did not waver. "Fine. The last time we were all home, we were discussing who you might suit best, and the answer was Bill. But he's besotted with Fleur, and none of the rest of us quite measure up, you know?"

The answer was so bizarre, Hermione didn't know what to make of it. She did lower the wand, though. "How can you say you don't measure up? You're a Dragon Master. You fly better than anyone I know except maybe Harry or Viktor. You are independent and don't rely on your parents to take care of you. You'd be a catch for anyone."

"You really think that, babe?" Charlie looked oddly vulnerable. "None of us are as good as Bill for you, and we all know it."

"Why would you think Bill was my best match?" Hermione was truly curious. The fact that his brothers didn't think they measured up didn't seem to stop them from flirting with her – any of them.

"He's as smart as you are, he's powerful and he's rich. What isn't to like?"

"When did you turn into Ron? Weren't you listening to me? I know you're smart, even if it isn't book smart, I know you are powerful, and I know how much bloody money a Dragon Master makes. So you weren't Head Boy and you aren't the only wizard running a curse-breaking division at Gringotts. If I came home and told you I had a rough day, what would you do?"

Charlie was a bit confused at the non-sequitur. "Huh?"

"Eloquent." Hermione shook her head. She really had to find some way to stop her fascination with ginger idiots. "How do I get home, you idiot?"

"Home, why? I thought you wanted to be here with me?" Charlie's temper started to show, his nostrils flared.

"You seem to think I would be better off with your married brother, and when I ask you a simple question, all you say is 'huh?' So, why should I want to stay?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Have you been spending time with Snape?"

Hermione pulled her wand out again.

"No, no, no! The eyebrow, babe, the eyebrow! It was very Snapeish!"

The wand was kept level with his crotch.

"What did you a–– oh, yeah! Well, if you had a bad day, I'd ask you to tell me about it, then ask if you needed me to hex or punch anyone, then after that, I'd bring you a glass of wine and rub your feet." Charlie was relieved that he had remembered her question. Heavily, he sat on his couch. "And I have no idea how to get you home in this storm. I guess you are stuck until it dies down." He looked down at his hands.

Hermione took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking at her to sit next to him. She seemed pleased when he put his arm around her.

"That was a great answer, you know. You didn't say, 'oh, you wouldn't have a bad day, because you would be home,' or make a joke. I like your answer. Are you bothered because I'm smart?" She laid her hand on his upper arm and gazed at him.

Charlie looked at the woman beside him, considering what she had asked. "No, of course not. I like it. I like that you understand how much work goes into being a dragon handler, much less a Master's work. I love that people think so highly of you. I just don't see why you would want to be with me."

"Because you like that I'm smart, you are willing to rub my feet and hex someone for me if I needed it, or cheer me on if I hexed them myself. That's why."

Charlie's face lit up. "So, no Bill?"

"No. Bill is far too full of himself. Fleur was a champion; that stupid cup chose her. And she's a housewife because he thought she would be safer. George doesn't take anything seriously, well, except Fred – and that is a bit scary, because he's dead. Percy is boring. Ron and I, we fight too much, I think it is a 'familiarity breeds contempt thing'. We are far better off as friends. Taking my obvious obsession with ginger men into account, you are certainly my best bet."

Charlie stared at her. He felt much better until she couldn't keep a straight face and dissolved into giggles.

"All right, I'm not exactly obsessed with gingers, but you Weasleys are certainly a good-looking bunch. All I have to do is consider personalities. I_ like_ you, Charlie. I'd love to see where this could go."

Charlie leaned down and kissed her. When they broke apart, he answered: "Me, too."

Hermione pressed herself into him, feeling the electricity in the air and the magic between them. She thought she could hear the crackling fire, then realized it was them. "What is this, Charlie?"

"Our magic is sparking. The power of the storm can do that if a couple's magic is especially compatible. We are a good match," he said and grinned at her.

"So what happens if we take it further?"

Charlie's grin grew even more. "I have no idea. Should we take it to my bedroom and find out?"

The next morning, Ron poked his head into the Floo in Romania. "Oi, Charlie, get your arse out here! We want to wish you a Merry Christmas, and we only have a few minutes in the International Floo!"

Charlie appeared in the living room, wearing only a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

Ron took one look at him and called back over his shoulder, "Hey, Dad! I know you said the storm was magical, and that it would be worse in Romania, but why is Charlie glowing?"

While Ron was distracted, Hermione shuffled into the room. She was wearing nothing but a flannel pajama top, which was only haphazardly buttoned. As Ron peered back into the flames to see what color Charlie was glowing, he saw him slip an arm around Hermione and pull her close. "Aaaah! I didn't need to see that!"

"You haven't seen anything, Ron," Hermione answered with a smirk.

"It's enough. I'm going to have nightmares for days." They heard a murmur from somewhere behind Ron, and he called back over his shoulder again, "No need to analyze the glow. Hermione's there with him, and they've obviously been shagging."

"Oi!" Charlie was not amused.

Hermione giggled. She was used to Ron. "Merry Christmas, Ron!" She waved her wand at the flames, and the fire went out. Then she warded it.

"You do know they are going to go grab all the International Floo Powder they can, and get Bill to break your ward, right?" Charlie asked.

"Of course I do, but we can have some fun until they manage."

"Too right."


End file.
